Suddenly I could foresee a future in which everything around us would vanish, and Daisy and I would have to face the rest of the world alone. It felt like being poised to step off the edge of a cliff.

A few days later, while Mark was at work, I stole into his office to look for the report.

He had clearly not read it. It wasn’t that he hadn’t got round to it; he had decided to bury it. It was at the bottom of a small, orderly pile that included a brochure from the nearby gardening centre, his annual pension statement and a guide to the best PCs and laptops on the market.

That night he was back late; Daisy was already in the bath by the time he pulled up in the drive. It had occurred to me that he was putting in extra hours just to get out of spending time at home. I wasn’t sure whether it was me or Daisy he was keener to avoid… or both of us.

I called down to tell him there was a pasta bake in the oven, and got Daisy out of the bath and cleared up the water she’d splashed everywhere. By the time we came down he’d finished eating and had nearly polished off a big glass of wine.

‘Do you want some? There’s plenty left,’ he said.

I poured myself some wine and sat down opposite him. This was how we’d done it in the old days, wasn’t it? Sharing a bottle of wine on a Friday night, a bit of conversation, a box set, sex… no interruptions? Well, we ought to be all right for a bit – Daisy had gone straight to her keyboard, and its tinny electronic version of ‘Greensleeves’ was playing yet again.

‘I see my daughter couldn’t keep herself from rushing in to say goodnight to Daddy,’ Mark said.

It took an effort to suppress the urge to chuck my glass of wine over his too-handsome, self-pitying face.

‘You could always go and say goodnight to her yourself if you’re so keen.’

‘Oh, come on,’ Mark said. ‘You must hate it too. Don’t you? Don’t pretend you don’t.’

‘I don’t hate Daisy, if that’s what you mean.’

‘I mean her being the way she is. With this thing that there’s no cure for.’

‘Hang on a minute. Last I knew, you weren’t even willing to talk about this until she’d had the diagnosis.’

‘Yes, well, I still had a little bit of hope then. I wasn’t ready to admit how completely screwed she is. She’s never going to be able to lead a normal life, Paula. Never.’ He downed the rest of his glass of wine. ‘You know what I was thinking the other day? How nice it would be to book a summer holiday. I’ve been working hard, I deserve a break. But then I started thinking, where on earth can we go? With her? The truth is, we can’t go anywhere. We’re screwed, too.’